


you knocked me sideways

by storhan



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 15:04:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5630938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storhan/pseuds/storhan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Harry,” Louis says, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, “have you ever stopped to think that maybe you hate him so much because you actually like him?”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Harry nearly chokes on his beer as he sends Louis an offended look. “You're mental,” he says, nudging Louis’ hand off of his shoulder and turning away from him because that's the most absurd thing he's ever heard. He almost wants to laugh.</i>
</p>
<p>Or, Niall and Harry each own rival record labels, and they hate each other. Until they don't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you knocked me sideways

Harry stares out the window of his fifteenth floor office, taking a rare moment to just enjoy the view of London sprawled out beneath him. He doesn’t get to do this often, because if he’s not on the phone with some producer or supervising a recording session, he’s in a million different meetings. Today is one of those unusual days where he has nothing scheduled, and if he’s honest, he’s not sure what to do with all this extra time.

It feels like he’s been working nonstop since he opened this record label -  _ his _ record label. But he wasn’t always this busy in the beginning, when he was just getting the label started and was still meeting with potential investors. Fortunately, he didn’t have to meet with many, since he invested most of his own money into the label, having made a small fortune as a solo artist.

He was successful; he made three number one albums and toured around the world to hundreds of sold out crowds, but after a while, it wasn’t as exciting as it used to be, so he gave it up in favor of helping someone else achieve their dream. But that was three years ago, and now he has over fifty artists signed to his label, some of which include The 1975, Coldplay and Hozier.

He’s been so focused on micromanaging everyone else’s career that he really hasn’t had much time to himself over the last three years, but Harry feels that it’s all worth it in the end because his label produces some of the best music in the world.

Harry leans back in his desk chair, propping his feet up on his desk as he continues to stare out the window, watching the people down below on the sidewalks. He has the rest of the day to himself and he thinks he might go for a bike ride and enjoy the last few days of autumn weather before it turns into a chilly winter.

His moment of relaxation doesn’t last long, though, because his assistant, Lacey, knocks twice on his door and announces, “There’s someone here to see you.”

“Who?” Harry sighs, already pushing the thought of a nice, relaxing bike ride to the back of his mind because obviously that's not going to happen today. Maybe tomorrow, he hopes, but that's wishful thinking.

Lacey seems a bit hesitant to answer, but eventually she says, “Niall Horan.”

Harry’s jaw immediately clenches at the name and the thought that his sworn public enemy is standing somewhere in his building. “What does he want?” Harry asks as calmly as possible, trying to tamp down the anger he can feel rising up in his belly.

“He wouldn’t say. He just said it was important to speak with you.”

Harry runs a hand through his hair and sighs in frustration because the last person he wants to see right now is Niall Horan.

Like Harry, Niall too was a thriving solo artist whose career started around the same time as Harry’s. They were two teenage boys who made music catering to the same group of consumers, so naturally, the media like to pit them against one another. They didn’t always hate each other, but they played the part for promotional purposes even though they hadn’t actually met. That, however, changed when they finally met face-to-face at a Brit Award after party where Niall had beat out Harry to win British Single of the Year.

Niall had come up to Harry to finally introduce himself, sloshing a bit of his beer as he slung an arm around Harry’s shoulder, slurred his congratulations for Harry's nomination and planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek. He was polite about it, though, but Harry's never been a fan of strangers touching him, let alone kissing his cheek, so his dislike for Niall was almost instant. And even when he put some distance between him and Niall, Harry could still hear his loud and obnoxious laugh from across the room, and at first Harry just blamed the alcohol, but he still found it just as annoying when he was sober.

It wasn’t the best way to meet, nor was it the way Harry would've liked to have met Niall, but Harry doesn't think they would've been friends had they met under different circumstances. It wasn't that Harry thought Niall was a bad person; they both were pretty drunk that night so Harry just brushed it off. But then the next day, an article came out where Niall was quoted calling Harry a ‘pompous jerk’, and that’s when the public feud started, and has yet to end.

“Fine, send him in,” Harry says. He doesn’t really care about anything Niall has to say, but he thinks he’ll quite enjoy the satisfaction of throwing Niall out.

Niall saunters into Harry’s office wearing another ridiculously patterned shirt, much like the other ones Harry’s seen him wearing that have the media - and Harry - convinced that he’s trying to steal Harry’s style. He knows Niall’s doing it just to piss him off, and Harry hates how it’s working.

He keeps his face calm, but doesn’t try to hide the harshness in his voice when he says, “What do you want?”

“It’s nice to see you too,” Niall says with a fake smile, his voice laced with sarcasm. “But I came here because I heard you stole a song from one of my artists, and normally I don't believe rumors, but I figured since it involved you it must be true.”

“That’s what you came here for, to spread lies? Boring day at the office, is it?”

Also like Harry, Niall too opened his own record label, but his only reason for doing so was just to spite Harry. He still remembers the day he saw the words  _ Move over Harry Styles, there’s a new record label owner in town! _ printed over every newspaper in the country, and even now, he’s sure Niall paid for that headline. Harry still resents him for it, but it did help boost his music sales, so he didn't say anything about it.

“Deflecting, I see,” Niall says, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorframe. “So you  _ did _ steal the song?”

“First of all, I wouldn’t steal anything from  _ you _ , and second of all, I have no idea what song you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do, seeing as you  _ stole _ it,” Niall says again, his eyes narrowing at Harry as his lips tighten into a thin line.

Harry leans forward on his desk, adopting the same fake smile Niall wore moments ago when he asks, “Humor me. What song was it?”

“ _ Just A Little Bit Of Your Heart _ ,” Niall responds, finally stepping into Harry’s office and placing his hands on the opposite end of Harry’s desk and leaning in close as he says, “Now give it back.”

Harry laughs because that is by far the funniest thing he’s heard all day. “Where’d you hear that?”

Niall steps away from Harry and sits down in one of the two leather chairs sitting in front of Harry’s desk. “I have a source at  _ The Sun _ ,” he says coolly, and Harry laughs again.

“Don’t tell me you actually believe the bullshit articles they print?”

Niall seems a bit affronted, but he recovers quickly. “I don’t, but have they ever been wrong?”

“Well, they’re wrong this time. It must be a different song, because if you had actually taken the time to look at the writing credits, you would know that  _ I _ wrote it, therefore, I did not  _ steal _ anything. In fact, Ariana is recording it right now. You can go listen to it, if you like,” Harry offers with the smile he uses to get people to do what he wants, like the one he uses on potential investors. He also thinks this is the quickest way to get Niall to leave, because they’ve already spent more time together than Harry would’ve liked.

“Fine. If it’ll prove you wrong, then let’s go,” Niall says, already rising from his seat and walking to the door.

Harry shows him the way to the elevator, walking behind him as they go so he can keep a close eye on Niall. He’s never once stepped foot into this building, and Harry doesn’t doubt that he has some ulterior motive, and maybe  _ he’s _ the one trying to steal something.

They take the elevator down to the studio and it’s the most uncomfortable thirty seconds of Harry’s life. It's quiet and awkward, and Harry's just thankful the elevator didn’t decide to suddenly stop working, because Niall is the last person he would want to be stuck with.

Niall opens the door to the recording studio and Harry follows him inside, the sound of Ariana’s voice filling the room as the melody of Harry’s own lyrics find his ears. He can see Ariana in the recording booth and Julian, Louis and Liam sitting at the soundboard, but he keeps his eyes trained on Niall, already awaiting the moment when Niall realizes that Harry was the one who was right and not him.

His eyes roam around the studio, no doubt comparing it to his own, Harry thinks, but Niall’s face remains unchanging and Harry’s not entirely sure what he’s thinking, until he sees Niall’s jaw tense for a fraction of a second.

Harry smiles smugly to himself. He always did like being right. “Well?” he asks Niall, who suddenly seems frozen. “Is this your song?”

Niall doesn’t answer, just remains stone-faced, staring at nothing in particular. He can see Niall’s anger just bubbling under the surface, and Harry feels like he should hate how much he’s enjoying this.

“Maybe you should fire your source at  _ The Sun _ ,” Harry suggests.

He can see Niall’s face turn red and a vein pop out on his forehead before he abruptly turns on his heel and leaves the room without a word.

“It was nice to see you again!” Harry calls after him, grinning, as Niall walks out the door.

-

Sure enough, the next day, before Harry even has the chance to set foot into his office, Lacey hands him the newest copy of  _ The Sun _ . The first thing he sees is his face on the cover, but then his eyes widen when he reads the headline.

“‘ _ Harry Styles guilty of plagiarism? _ ’” he reads out loud before his fingers curl up into a fist, crumpling the paper in his hand. He throws the paper into the nearest bin and he has the strongest urge to burn every copy.

Normally Harry doesn’t give two shits about what’s written about him in the press, especially when it's from  _ The Sun _ , but he can feel his body temperature rising because the one person he hates most in this world is spreading lies about him. He's been called many things by Niall, but he will not stand for being called a plagiarist.

He knows no one will believe it; he’s sat in plenty of interviews where he’s been asked about his creative process and he’s got the credits to prove it. But it’s not the lie that’s getting under his skin, it’s  _ Niall _ . Niall, who went into his studio just yesterday and heard a completely different song and still let his source print eight hundred words of pure bullshit.

Harry’s not an impulsive person, and he’s also not an angry person, but right now, the two are making a deadly combination. Harry’s never been someone who’s had to keep their temper in check, because he just simply doesn’t get angry, but Niall Horan is the only person on this Earth who seems to ignite something deep inside Harry, and that’s why he finds himself walking back out of his building and across the street.

He ignores the protests from Niall’s receptionist telling him that he can’t go in there without an appointment, and grabs another copy of  _ The Sun _ sitting on the edge of her desk before marching into Niall’s office and slamming it onto his desk.

“What the fuck is this?” Harry seethes, struggling to keep his anger and breathing in check.

Niall looks surprised by Harry’s sudden intrusion, but when he sees the red hot anger painted across Harry’s face, he simply smiles. It’s a mixture of smug and devilish and Harry wants nothing more than to rip that look off of Niall’s face. “The truth,” Niall says easily, leaning back in his chair like Harry isn’t about to explode right in front of him.

“It is not the truth and you know it,” Harry says, pointing an accusing finger at Niall. “And you and I both know nobody is going to believe it, so just admit you’re trying to make me look bad.”

“Of course I am,” Niall says shamelessly. “It makes me look better.” Niall smiles again and Harry’s fingers grip hard at the edge of Niall’s desk.

“It doesn’t actually,” Harry says, his voice surprisingly calm. “It just makes you look like an asshole, tearing others down to make yourself look better. But I guess I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

Niall’s face shows no signs of reaction, he just merely raises an eyebrow. “Is that so? As I recall, you were the one who said that I lip-synced throughout my last tour.”

“I only said that you  _ probably _ lip-sync. If they decided to say it was true, then it must be,” Harry says with a shrug.

“It’s not,” Niall says shortly, his jaw becoming tight. “So why don’t  _ you _ just admit that you spread rumors too.”

“Sure,” Harry says in a mock-friendly tone. “As soon as everything that comes out of your mouth stops being a lie.”

Niall laughs and Harry glares at him, because he doesn’t remember telling a joke. “You’re funny,” Niall says, and Harry now realizes that coming over here was a mistake and that any attempt to reason with Niall is futile. He can feel his anger rising in him once again and he knows he needs to get out of here and be far, far away from Niall.

Niall’s still laughing as Harry storms out of his office and back toward the lifts. He jams his finger into the button and the doors open with a ding. He steps into the elevator, the tension in his shoulders disappearing as he puts more distance between him and Niall, but then he sees him again, jogging down the hall towards the elevators, towards Harry.

“Wait,” Niall says in between intakes of breath. “You forgot something.”

“What?” Harry asks irritably.

“This,” he says, stepping into the lift so he can hand Harry the rolled up copy of  _ The Sun _ that he left on Niall’s desk.

“Keep it,” Harry says, pushing the paper back toward Niall’s chest, keeping his voice calm and controlled as he adds, “I don’t need it.”

Niall stares at Harry for a moment before he concedes, “Alright.” The doors start to close behind Niall, but he’s not able to turn around in time and there’s not enough space between the doors for his hand to fit, to stop them from closing. He sighs and presses the button to open the doors back up, but the elevator is already moving back down, and Harry wants nothing more than to get off this damned contraption.

But then, to Harry’s horror, the elevator begins to rumble and shake; he’s nearly pushed into Niall as the elevator comes to a crashing halt. Harry can see a sudden look of panic on Niall’s face as he presses the open button in rapid succession.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Niall mumbles, still trying to open the doors, but ends up slamming his fists against the metal doors when they remained closed.

“Great,” Harry mutters under his breath, because this is shaping up to be the worst day of his life. This must be karma, Harry thinks, for him thanking his own elevator for not breaking down yesterday and for every rude thing he’s ever said or thought about Niall. And now he has to spend God knows how long with him in this cramped space until someone comes and fixes it. “This is just great.”

“Will you shut up for two seconds?” Niall says, and Harry’s about to retaliate, but he sees Niall pull out his phone, presumably to call maintenance, so he keeps his mouth shut… for now.

Harry listens as Niall tells whoever’s on the other line that he’s stuck in the elevator, conveniently leaving out the fact that he’s stuck with Harry. When Niall finally hangs up, he says something about it being at least thirty minutes until they’ll be out, but Harry’s only half listening, trying to think of ways he can survive the next thirty minutes in close proximity to Niall.

“I hope you’re happy,” Harry says, glaring up at Niall from where he’s now seated on the floor.

“What are you talking about?” Niall asks distractedly, not looking at Harry as he tries to wrench the doors apart with little to no success.

“It’s your fault we’re stuck in here,” Harry says.

“What?” Niall’s head whips around to glare at Harry. “How is it my fault?”

“For having the worst elevators in all of London,” Harry says. He knows it’s probably the farthest thing from the truth, and that elevators just stop working sometimes, but they are in Niall’s building, so in some way it’s Niall’s fault, and Harry’s definitely going to take every opportunity to blame this predicament on Niall.

“Shut up,” Niall mutters, seemingly distracted as he paces back and forth across the small space of the elevator.

Niall seems restless, his hands fidgeting and his feet constantly moving, and at first Harry doesn’t understand why someone would be so anxious in a broken lift, but then it finally occurs to Harry that Niall must be claustrophobic.

Now he feels slightly terrible for blaming this on Niall when he can’t control the elevators and wants to get out just as much as Harry does, if not more. He also feels kind of terrible for not knowing that Niall was claustrophobic, or anything about him, really. There wasn’t really much time for that, or need, because all it took was one conversation for Harry to determine how insufferable Niall was to be around.

He feels the slightest amount of sympathy for Niall, though, because Harry’s a decent human being who doesn’t enjoy seeing others suffer, but it doesn’t change the way Harry feels about Niall and his hatred for him remains the same.

“Hey,” Harry says softly. Niall looks at him curiously, and Harry can tell Niall’s not used to this tone of voice being directed at him. “Come sit down.” His voice is calm and almost gentle, and it’s a bit weird, because Harry didn’t think he’d ever talk to Niall with anything less than venom or sarcasm behind his words. But desperate times call for desperate measures, he supposes.

Niall laughs shortly. “Yeah, right. Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re driving me crazy, and all this pacing won’t make this thing work any faster,” Harry says.

He pats the spot next to him and Niall finally stops pacing for a brief moment just to stare between the spot next to Harry and Harry’s face. Harry nods, and Niall carefully steps forward and sits down, putting as much space between him and Harry that he possibly can.

Even though he’s sitting down, Niall’s still fidgety, his foot shaking relentlessly as he chews on his thumbnail. And even though Harry despises Niall, there is a tiny part of him that’s worried.

“You okay?” he asks quietly.

“I’m fine,” Niall snaps, and it’s not like Harry was expecting a different answer, but he figured it was worth a shot. Niall tucks his knees under his chin and stares ahead at the doors that still remain closed, almost as if he’s willing them to open.

Harry keeps his head facing forward as well, but watches Niall out of the corner of his eye. He can see Niall’s body trembling slightly, there’s sweat forming at his hairline and he’s breathing shakily. “Deep breaths, yeah?” he says, turning back to face Niall, and if it was anyone else, he would reach out and place a comforting hand on their arm, but he knows Niall would just jerk away from his touch, so he doesn’t, because he's trying to keep Niall as calm as possible.

“I’m fine,” Niall says again, even though they both know he’s not. Normally Harry would just keep quiet because he can tell Niall wants to be left alone, but he can tell how uneasy Niall is and it’s for that reason that he keeps talking.

“Well, this is not how I imagined spending my day,” he says, laughing humorlessly.

“You think this is how I wanted to spend mine?” Niall counters, and Harry knows it was probably stupid to say, but he’s just surprised Niall’s even still talking to him. “Stuck in an elevator with  _ you _ ?”

“Hey, I don’t want to be here any more than you do,” Harry fires back, and it’s becoming more and more apparent that they can’t even have a civil conversation without it somehow turning into an argument. But that’s how it’s always been, why would Harry expect it to change now?

“Why do you hate me so much?” Niall suddenly asks. It’s a rhetorical question, Harry can tell, but there’s an edge of softness to his voice, almost like he genuinely wants to know the answer.

“Isn’t is obvious?” Harry asks, because it should be. “You called me a pompous jerk to a reporter the night we met!”

“I was drunk!” Niall says indignantly, and Harry just scoffs, because that’s about the lamest excuse Niall could’ve come up with. Granted, Harry was a bit tipsy that night too, but at least he knows not to go blabbing about people he hates to journalists.

“So? I didn’t say anything bad about you. And you could’ve apologized, but you never did.”

Niall’s silent for a moment, and Harry’s wondering if he’s considering apologizing now, but before Harry gets the chance to hear what Niall has to say, the doors to the elevator suddenly open and Niall rushes out, his hands resting on his knees as he breathes in deeply.

Harry carefully steps out of the elevator, and he doesn’t know why, but he walks over to Niall. Maybe to see if Niall was ever going to finish his thought, or if he’d thank Harry for keeping him calm, but Harry’s not surprised when neither of those things happen.

“Get out,” Niall says firmly as he points at the open elevator that they both just walked out of. If they hadn’t been stuck in a lift for the last thirty minutes, Harry might retaliate by saying that he doesn’t have to do anything that Niall tells him to do, but he figures Niall’s been through enough for one day, and whatever moment they shared (if it could even be considered a moment) was gone the second those doors opened.

Harry turns around without a word and takes the stairs.

-

Harry walks into the conference room the next day, renewed and refreshed, glad to have put the elevator incident behind him and to have something to do to take his mind off of Niall (who he was definitely  _ not _ thinking about last night). He greets Liam and Louis, who’re poring over the lyrics to some new song they’re writing, and Lacey, who’s sitting in the corner organizing Harry’s schedule for the day.

“So, what’s this meeting about, boys?” Harry asks, taking his usual spot at the head of the table, even though there’s really no need to when there’s just the four of them in the room.

“This new song we’re working on,” Louis says, sliding over the paper him and Liam had been looking at when Harry walked in. He reads through the holiday-themed lyrics Liam and Louis have messily scrawled across the paper, and Harry’s surprised he can decipher all of it.

It would make a good Christmas song, Harry thinks, he can already hear it playing in his head and he likes the sound of it. “I think this would suit Ariana well, what about you?”

Liam and Louis nod in unison, but they both look a little hesitant as Liam says, “We were thinking about making it a duet.”

“Even better,” Harry says, even though he’s a little skeptical as to why they both look so apprehensive about a great idea. “With who?”

“Zayn Malik,” Louis says quietly, and again Harry thinks it’s a great idea, because Zayn’s voice would definitely compliment Ariana’s well, but then he remembers what label Zayn’s signed to and he realizes why they had looked so nervous about bringing it up.

“No,” Harry says simply, but firmly.

“But Harry-” Liam tries to cut in but Harry doesn’t let him.

“I said no. I don’t care if you have to rewrite the song to fit someone else’s voice, we are  _ not _ collaborating with one of Niall’s artists,” Harry says, already feeling the anger bubbling inside him at just the  _ thought _ of having to work with Niall.

“We were kind of hoping you had a different answer,” Louis says calmly, almost as if he’s bracing Harry for some bad news, and he knows this can’t be good. “Niall already-”

But before Louis can finish, the door opens and in walks the one person Harry does not want to see, the one person who he’s seen far too much of this past week.

Niall walks over and sits down in the chair next to Harry, across from Liam and Louis and props his feet up onto the table, looking bright and cheery as ever. He seems different, like yesterday in the elevator didn’t even happen, and Harry has to wonder if he dreamt the whole thing. The only thing he’s sure of is that he’s not dreaming now. “Morning, boys,” Niall says, much too chipper for Harry’s liking.

He pushes Niall’s feet off of the table and they land on the floor with a dull thud, but his face doesn’t change, almost like he’d expected Harry to do that. “What’re you doing here?” he asks because he's confused as to why Niall's even here. As far as Harry's concerned, this is company business and he doesn't belong here.

“I’m here because these two” - he gestures to Liam and Louis - “said they had a song they wanted Zayn to feature on,” Niall says, smiling warmly at the two across the table before turning back to Harry, any trace of kindness now gone from his face.

“And you agreed to this?” Harry asks, staring at Niall long enough to see him nod before he turns to Liam and Louis. “And you two went behind my back to set this up?”

“Yes,” Louis says bracingly, “but only because we knew you’d never go for it.”

“Of course I wouldn’t!” Harry shouts, his voice echoing around the empty room. “You know I would never work with him!”

“C’mon, Harry, we all know this song would sound best with Zayn’s voice, so can't you two put your differences aside just this once?”

“No,” Harry says again, more forcefully this time, because even though he does agree that Zayn’s voice  _ would _ be the best to accompany Ariana on the song, he told himself he would never work with Niall and he doesn’t intend to start now. “I refuse to work with a pretentious, conniving jerk.”

“I’m sitting right here, you know?” Niall says, as if Harry could forget that Niall was sitting not even two feet away from him. He ignores him and continues to look at Liam and Louis, silently pleading with them to find someone else for the song.

“Listen, Harry, I know he’s the last person on Earth you want to work with-”

“Still here,” Niall interjects, but no one acknowledges him.

“-but we think this song has the potential to be a great success,” Louis continues as if Niall hadn’t interrupted. Harry still looks skeptical, so Louis adds, “Think about how much media coverage this would get. It would make you both a lot of money.”

Harry’s ready to say no again, but he takes a moment to think. He doesn’t really care about the money, because that’s not why he started this record label, but he does think about how much the press will eat this up and he likes to keep up the image of running a successful business. He hates how he’s about to agree to this, but he has a feeling that if he doesn’t, Liam and Louis will just go behind his back again. So if he has to put up with working with Niall to get a great song, then that’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make.

“Fine,” Harry eventually concedes, and he’s glad he doesn’t have to pretend to be happy about it. He finds it a bit ironic how not even three days ago Niall accused him of stealing a song and now they’re collaborating on one.

“Great!” Niall says, a bit too enthusiastically for Harry’s liking, jumping up from his seat and clapping Harry on the back. “See you tomorrow, business partner.”

Harry waits until Niall leaves the room before he turns to Liam and Louis and says, “If this song flops, you two are fired.”

-

Harry spends the next week overseeing Zayn and Ariana’s collaboration, and he almost feels at ease, because this is something he does on a day-to-day basis and he feels comfortable in the studio.

Except for when Niall is standing in the same studio, five feet away from him.

The room is spacious enough to comfortably fit more than just him, Liam, Louis, Julian and Niall, but he still feels like he's trapped back in that elevator, being this close in proximity to Niall.

He keeps his distance from Niall and keeps his attention focused on Zayn and Ariana, because they’re the ones who deserve his attention, not Niall. He still resents Liam and Louis for setting this whole thing up behind his back without his knowledge, but he hates himself even more because they were right.

Zayn’s voice suits the song well, and Harry thinks he could sing anything. He definitely would’ve signed him if Niall hadn’t. And the song as a whole sounds good too, and Harry thinks it’ll sell quite well because it’s already putting him into a Christmas mood even though December is still weeks away.

Niall walks over and nudges Harry in the shoulder, breaking him out of his reverie. “They’re sounding good, yeah?” Niall says, nodding his head in the direction of the recording booth Zayn and Ariana are currently standing in.

“Yeah,” Harry says simply, resisting every temptation to tell Niall how much he hates him and this situation, but he keeps those thoughts internalized because he begrudgingly promised Liam and Louis that he would keep things professional between him and Niall. There’s also plenty of people around and he doesn’t want to seem petty and childish, nor does he want to start a fight that could possibly disrupt this recording session, and he convinces himself that _ those _ are the reasons why he’s pretending to be cordial with Niall, not because he made some fake promise to his friends.

“I think so too, but,” Niall says, drawing out the word, and Harry has to pinch the bridge of his nose because he’s pretty sure Niall is trying his patience. “I feel like Zayn should sing the second verse instead.”

“No,” Harry says, keeping his voice quiet but firm. He had sat back and let Liam and Louis decide who sang what part of the song, especially since they seemed to have written it with Zayn and Ariana’s voices in mind, and he trusts their opinion. More so than Niall’s, that's for sure. “It’s fine the way it is.”

“No, it isn’t,” Niall says, a bit louder this time, and Harry can see a few heads turn in their direction. Harry’s beginning to wonder if Niall truly believes the solos should be switched or if he’s just trying to get under Harry’s skin. “Zayn would sound so much better and you know it.”

“No, he wouldn’t!” Harry hisses, and the only thing he cares about is proving Niall wrong, not the five pairs of eyes currently staring at them. The room’s gone quiet, since Zayn and Ariana have stopped singing, and the only sound Harry can hear is the harsh breaths expelling from his nostrils.

Liam clears his throat. “Maybe you two should take a break,” he offers, and Harry's already standing, because he needs to get out of this room and away from Niall before he explodes.

He walks down the hallway, stopping halfway to take a few deep breaths and think about how he could make Liam and Louis suffer the same way that he's been suffering this past week, when he hears footsteps echoing down the corridor. He knows it's probably Liam or Louis come to calm him down, but when he looks up, he doesn't expect to see Niall. If Harry had felt any sense of calmness in the thirty seconds it took him to walk here, it's gone now.

“Did you come out here to continue to tell me how right you are?” Harry snaps. Niall merely smiles and Harry hates how much he's enjoying seeing the way Harry becomes agitated just from Niall  _ breathing _ in his vicinity.

“I don't have to tell you if it's a fact,” Niall says, shrugging nonchalantly and Harry's this close to pulling out his own hair. If he ever needed a reminder why he's never talked to Niall since that Brit party, this would be it. He's glad the song is almost finished because he never wants to see Niall or hear him speak ever again.

“You're so full of yourself, you know that?” Harry says, the dam inside his head suddenly breaking, the one that's held back every nasty thing he's wanted to say to Niall since they started working on this song a week ago. “You won't listen to anyone but yourself!”

“What are you talking about? You're the one who won't listen to other people!” Niall shouts back and at this point Harry's sure everyone in the studio can hear them, since the soundproofing only works one way, but he's also pretty sure they expected nothing less from a week of him and Niall working together. Harry's kind of surprised he's remained calm this long.

“It's only you who I don't listen to because your ideas are fucking terrible,” Harry spits, not bothering to hide the venom behind his voice. The dam’s burst and he can't stop.

“Zayn would sound better on the second verse and you know it,” Niall repeats his earlier statement, but Harry just shakes his head because he's never heard anything more wrong in his life.

“It suits Ariana’s voice better and it's going to stay that way,” Harry says. He wants nothing more than to end this stupid argument, but he knows Niall won't leave it alone until he gets what he wants.

“Will you just shut up and  _ listen _ -” Niall says, stepping forward and boxing Harry in like he knows Harry was about to walk away. It's a horrible attempt because Harry could easily sidestep his way out, but he refuses to let Niall have the last word.

“Make me,” Harry challenges, and then Niall's surging forward, pressing his lips firmly against Harry's. He's pressed back against the wall by the force of it, and he's not sure what he’d expected Niall to do next, but it definitely wasn't that.

Harry's frozen on the spot, and he's a bit weak in the knees that he has to grip the wall behind him for support. When Niall finally pulls away, they both just stare at each other for a long moment, and all Harry can do is stand there, stunned.

“I - I don't know why I did that,” Niall mumbles before he slowly backs away and takes off down the hallway in the opposite direction, and Harry's left wondering what the hell just happened.

-

“He  _ kissed _ you?” Louis splutters, his eyebrows raised high as he gapes at Harry, and Harry's not sure why he's even telling them, but for the last twenty-four hours he's been trying to process what happened between him and Niall in that hallway and he's just as surprised as Louis is.

“Are you sure?” Liam asks and Harry just nods, taking a swig of his beer, because he's pretty sure that his lips touching Niall's qualifies as a kiss. Maybe if he drank enough he could forget about it, but he knows he can't, because he's here to scope out new talent and he has to remain focused and somewhat sober.

But Niall's gone and muddled his brain, and Harry wants to smack his head on the bar top because he's already thought enough about Niall over the past week to last him a lifetime, and he doesn't need to add any confusing feelings to the mix.

He's gone over every possible explanation as to why Niall could've possibly kissed him, and none of them seem plausible enough when they're both supposed to hate each other.

“But… why?” Louis asks to no one in particular.

“I don't know,” Harry answers anyway, because that's the one question he stayed up all night thinking about. He refuses to let Niall take over his thoughts, and he hates how one single kiss has consumed his mind.

“Did he say anything after?” Liam asks, and he seems curious now, now that he's let himself believe it.

“Just that it shouldn't have happened,” Harry says. “And then he left.” Harry takes a long pull from his beer before he sets it back down on the countertop, a bit harder than he intended. “God, I hate him so much.”

“Harry,” Louis says, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, “have you ever stopped to think that maybe you hate him so much because you actually like him?”

Harry nearly chokes on his beer as he sends Louis an offended look. “You're mental,” he says, nudging Louis’ hand off of his shoulder and turning away from him because that's the most absurd thing he's ever heard. He almost wants to laugh.

“Did you like it?” Liam suddenly pipes up, and Harry only turns back to face them because he has no idea what Liam's on about.

“Did I like what?”

“The kiss. Did you like the kiss?” Liam repeats, and Harry suddenly wishes he'd come here alone because he wanted to wallow into a beer or two, not think about any of his feelings.

Harry picks at the label of his beer, hoping he can get away with not answering, but he can see Liam and Louis looking at him expectantly out of the corner of his eye. He'd thought about this too, a lot more than he'd like to admit, but honestly, it wasn't the worst kiss he's ever had.

“Oh my god,” Louis says slowly, eyes widening. “You did, didn't you?”

Harry doesn't dignify that with a response, but it's not like he really has to, he knows his silence says what his mouth won't.

He doesn’t  _ like _ Niall, he tells himself as he swivels around on his stool to face the stage, taking another pull from his beer and ignoring Liam and Louis’ knowing gazes. The bar is packed to capacity tonight, just like it is every time Harry comes here for open mic night, with every table full of people eager for entertainment.

The first act walks on stage, a young girl who could be no more than twenty. She introduces herself a bit shyly, but when she begins to sing, it’s like she transforms, and she’s good, Harry thinks,  _ really _ good. It usually takes him a few songs to decide if he could potentially sign an artist, but this girl has got a voice that the whole world needs to hear.

He watches her walk off the stage and back to her seat, and he’s about to get up and possibly talk business with her when Louis smacks his chest with the back of his hand and leans in to whisper out the side of his mouth, “You might not want to look, but Blondie’s here.”

“What?” Harry asks, because he has no idea who Louis’ referring to. His eyes follow Louis’ line of sight and at the corner of the bar he sees a familiar blond head of hair, holding a pint in his hand and laughing with a group of customers. Harry’s hand tightens reflexively around his own bottle. “What’s he doing here?” If he wasn’t so angry he’d probably laugh, because he came to this bar in the hopes of forgetting about Niall, and yet, here he is.

“I don’t know, I’m just as surprised as you, mate,” Louis says.

He’s probably here to swoop in and steal any artist he sets his sights on, Harry thinks, but before he has time to try and figure out why Niall’s really here, their eyes lock across the room for the briefest of moments, and the left side of Niall’s mouth quirks up before he makes his way over to where Harry’s sitting.

Harry panics, turning back around the face the bar, nearly knocking over his beer as he sets it back down, and hunches over the counter, hoping that Niall will forgot he even saw him. He wants to hide; he doesn’t want to be around Niall right now, and he  _ especially _ doesn’t want to think about the feeling he had in his stomach when he saw Niall.

“Harry!” Niall shouts over the din of the pub, clapping Harry on the back hard enough that it makes him jump. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“What are you doing here?” Harry asks, keeping his eyes trained forward, taking a sudden interest in the vodka bottles lining the back of the bar.

“I know Bressie, the owner,” Niall says, his words just edging on slurred. His hand is warm where it rests on Harry’s back, and if he wasn’t swaying slightly, Harry would wonder why Niall’s even touching him. There’s that feeling in his stomach again and Harry chases it down with a long pull of his beer. He empties it and signals for the bartender to bring him another one. He’s gonna need it if Niall doesn’t plan on leaving anytime soon.

Harry vaguely hears Niall laugh at something Louis said, and he suddenly has an overwhelming sense of déjà vu from the night they met, and Harry feels like he’s living that moment all over again, with the way Niall's boisterous laugh fills the room and the way he continues to drink until he’s drunk off his arse.

He turns around a bit, just enough so he can look Niall in the eye when he tells him to go away, but Niall’s still laughing. He has his head thrown back, and Harry finds himself staring at the column of his throat, but he quickly tears his eyes away for fear of being caught admiring anything about Niall. He most definitely was  _ not _ admiring Niall.

Harry tries to keep his attention focused on Liam and Louis as they talk with Niall, but every now and then Niall bursts into laughter again and Harry finds his eyes drawn back to Niall, almost like he’s under a spell. He stares, transfixed, at the way Niall’s lips move when he talks and there’s a brief moment when Niall turns to Harry and he notices just how  _ blue _ Niall’s eyes are.

That’s when one crazy thought travels through Harry’s alcohol-addled brain:  _ Was Niall always this pretty? _

_ No _ , he scolds himself, draining the rest of his beer and flagging down the bartender for something stronger so he can push that thought away. He’s thought many things about Niall over the years, but  _ pretty _ has not been one of them.

_ Okay, maybe Niall’s pretty on the outside _ , Harry reasons, downing a shot of whatever the bartender’s just set in front of him.  _ But that doesn’t change what he’s like on the inside _ .

“You alright, Harry?” Liam suddenly asks, cutting through the mess that is currently Harry’s brain.

“‘M great,” Harry says, plastering on a fake smile that could even fool Louis. They’re looking at him a bit skeptically, and he really hopes they’re not looking at him like that because he slurred his words. It’s just the three of them now; he didn’t even realize Niall had left.

“Do you want us to drive you home?” Liam asks but Harry waves him off.

“‘M fine,” he says a bit more firmly this time. “I’ll just call a cab.” They seem a bit reluctant to leave, but Harry assures them, again, that he is fine, and they tell him goodbye and that they’ll see him in the studio tomorrow.

It’s then that Harry realizes how quiet it is now that everyone has performed and all the patrons have gone home. There’s still a few stragglers left behind, still nursing what’s left in their glasses, and Harry reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, deciding to call it a night.

“Leaving so soon?” Niall reappears at Harry's side, leaning in close enough that Harry can smell the alcohol on his breath.

“Yeah,” Harry says, rubbing at his temples to stave off his oncoming headache.

“Hey, d’you think you could take me home?” Niall asks. He giggles and then adds, “I’m a bit too shitfaced to drive.”

“Then why don’t you have  _ Bressie _ drive you home?” Harry says a bit irritably, because he’s sure Niall knows plenty of people that could give him a ride home. He’s not sure why Niall’s asking him.

“He left an hour ago, and you're the only one here I know. Please?” Niall says, and Harry’s a bit taken aback because he doesn’t think he’s ever heard Niall utter the word  _ please _ in the length of time he’s known him. He feels like tonight has just been one confusing moment after another, and he’s almost certain he’s asleep, because there's no way any of this has been real. It has to be a dream.

“I’m taking a cab, but I guess I could call you one too,” Harry says, and he’s about to call for two cabs to come to the bar, but Niall interrupts again.

“Can I ride with you?” Niall asks, and Harry doesn’t know why he asks, but it appears that Niall doesn’t know why either. Niall’s still a bit unsteady on his feet and he has to grab onto the bar to keep himself upright. His eyes are also glossed over and Harry can tell he’s too far gone to even walk, let alone get home by himself.

“Alright,” Harry sighs and he walks over and lets Niall drape his arm around his shoulder as he helps Niall walk out of the pub.

He helps Niall into the cab, and Harry would think this is worse than being stuck in an elevator with Niall, since there’s barely any space in the back of the cab, but he finds that he doesn’t mind it so much. He feels like maybe something is changing between them that he can’t quite explain yet.

Luckily Niall doesn’t live too far away and it’s only a short drive to his flat, but it seems to take twice as long to maneuver Niall inside and into his bedroom. He deposits Niall onto his bed, and he flops back onto the mattress, sighing contently when his head hits the pillow.

Harry lingers for a moment, because he’s not really sure if he should help Niall undress, or tuck him in, or get him a glass of water and some paracetamol for the headache Harry knows he’ll be feeling in the morning, but Niall seems half asleep already, so Harry slowly steps back toward the door.

“Thanks,” Niall says quietly, his eyes closed as his breathing starts to slowly even out.

“No problem,” Harry says, only because he’s pretty sure Niall won’t remember any of this when he wakes up tomorrow. Harry turns around, ready to walk back out of Niall’s bedroom and go home, when Niall speaks again.

“Y’know, I don’t actually hate you.”

He says it so quietly that Harry’s not sure he would’ve heard it if he wasn’t standing in complete silence, save for Niall’s breathing. He’s also not sure if Niall knows he’s still standing in the doorway or not, and it’s dark enough in the room that Harry can’t read Niall’s face to see if he was serious or not, but before he has the chance to ask what Niall meant by that, he hears a soft snore and knows that Niall’s fallen asleep.

Harry leaves him some paracetamol and a glass of water anyway before he quietly leaves Niall’s flat and climbs back in the cab and goes home to his own apartment. He thinks of Niall the whole way there, and he doesn’t have time to feel ashamed about it because he feels like Niall’s trying to confuse him in every way possible. First the kiss and now this?

Harry doesn’t know what to think anymore.

-

Niall doesn't show up to the next few recording sessions, but Harry doesn't really think anything of it because the song is practically finished, and he figures Niall has more important business matters to attend to, but he has a feeling in his gut that Niall's absence actually has something to do with what happened the other night when Harry took him home from the pub.

“Have either of you seen Niall lately?” he asks Liam and Louis one day. It's been four days since he last saw Niall, and apparently they haven't seen him either.

If he wasn't so damn  _ curious _ as to why Niall said he didn't actually hate Harry, then he could maybe enjoy Niall keeping his distance from him, because that's the way it's always been, but every time he steps into the studio he feels like something - or someone - is missing.

Harry's brain has been one jumbled mess ever since Niall kissed him and he's not sure how to feel about any of it. And now Niall's avoiding him as if nothing’s happened, and Harry decides in that moment that he's okay with that. He can forget about it too, but he needs a drink first.

-

Harry feels like he should go to a different pub, one that doesn't remind him of Niall, but this is  _ his _ usual place, and he refuses to let himself be bothered by it. He steps inside, and it's not as crowded as it was the last time he was here, which means it's quieter, and Harry's a bit worried that the alcohol won't be enough to escape his thoughts.

He takes a deep breath and nearly chokes on it when he sees someone sitting in his usual spot at the bar, and it's not just any someone. He'd recognize that head of hair anywhere.

Niall's staring into his glass as he swirls the liquid around, and then in one swift motion, he brings the glass to his mouth and empties it. Harry's stood frozen on the spot; he's a bit unsure what to do because he hadn't expected Niall to be here. He feels like he should leave and find another pub or just go back to his flat and get drunk in the safety of his own home, but there's that curiosity nagging at him again, and that's why Harry finds his feet moving toward Niall: he needs to know  _ why _ .

He slides onto the stool next to Niall, and Niall doesn't seem to have noticed anyone sat next to him until Harry hollers at the bartender for a pint, and he looks over at Harry, wide eyed and confused.

“What are you doing here?” Niall asks, and the words sound harsh in Harry's ears, but there's no venom behind his voice like there usually is. Harry would ask him if he's okay, but Harry knows it would be a stupid question because it seems as though Niall's drowning his sorrows in whiskey, so his state of mind seems pretty evident.

“I'm here to have a drink, just like you,” Harry says. The bartender walks over and hands Harry his beer and refills Niall's glass.

“No offense, but I'd like to be alone,” Niall says, and again his words are harsh but his voice isn't. Harry's not sure if it's just the alcohol, but he's almost certain now that something has changed between them if Niall doesn't have the energy to properly tell Harry to fuck off.

“Right,” Harry says, even though he makes no move to get up and leave. He can drink anywhere, but now that he's finally found Niall, he's not leaving until he gets answers to the questions that have kept him tossing and turning all night for the past week. And he also wants to ask them before Niall has the chance to run away again. “What did you mean when you said you didn't actually hate me?”

Harry can see the way Niall's shoulders visibly tense when he asks the question. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he replies quietly, avoiding Harry's gaze to stare down into the amber liquid of his glass.

“The night you asked me to take you home from the pub,” Harry explains, even though he can tell Niall knows exactly what he's talking about by the tightness of his mouth. “You said it before I left.”

“Listen, I was pretty drunk that night and I'm sure I said a lot of crazy shit that I didn't mean,” Niall says dismissively, raising his glass to take another drink.

Harry knew this was going to be difficult, but he perseveres. “Then why'd you kiss me? You weren't drunk th-”

“Listen,” Niall cuts over him, the venom that was missing from his voice before now returning, “I don't have to give you a reason for anything, so please, just leave.”

“No,” Harry says firmly, and if he wasn't worried about drawing attention to himself, he'd slam his hand down on the counter to get Niall to listen. “I'm not leaving until you give me an explanation.”

Niall sighs and he's silent for a long moment before he finally turns to look at Harry for the first time since he walked in. “Because I like you, alright?” he admits quietly. “I've always liked you, but you've always hated me, so I've had to live with the fact that you'd never feel the same way.” Niall looks away again and Harry's left speechless. “Now will you please leave?”

“You… like me?” Harry asks incredulously, because he doesn't know what else to say; he's still trying to process the words that just came out of Niall's mouth. Niall must be a good actor, Harry thinks, because he never would've guessed that Niall had been harboring those kind of feelings for him. He thought they had a mutual hatred for one another, but obviously he was wrong. “But you hate me?”

“Forget it,” Niall says, draining the rest of his drink and storming out of the bar, the door slamming closed behind him as he leaves.

-

Harry's sat in the conference room once again, Liam and Louis droning on and on about promoting Zayn and Ariana’s song, but he doesn't hear any of it and he knows he shouldn't be here if he's not focused. All he can think about is  _ Niall Niall Niall _ , how he kissed him, how he revealed his true feelings for him and how he's been pretending to hate Harry all these years. It's too many thoughts at once and it's beginning to give Harry a headache.

For years Harry's only felt one emotion towards Niall: hate, but now that feeling has dissolved away into confusion. He's beginning to wonder if Louis was right and maybe he has liked Niall all along but he's been too blinded by his anger to notice. 

“Harry, you alright?” Liam asks, finally pulling Harry back to reality.

“Do you think Niall likes me?” Harry blurts, and Liam and Louis’ expressions change from concerned to confused.

“What do you mean?” Liam asks.

“Y’know, do you think Niall, like,  _ fancies _ me?” he asks tentatively, and for a moment, Liam and Louis just stare at him blankly, like they’re waiting for him to continue, but when he doesn’t Louis bursts out laughing.

“Are you serious? Listen, Harry, I know Niall acts like he wants to rip your throat out, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you when you’re not looking. I’m pretty sure I even caught him checking out your arse once, but I digress. He  _ kissed _ you for fucks sake! You don’t kiss someone who you claim to hate.”

By the time Louis’ finished rambling, Harry’s leant over the table with his head in his hands. He feels like he’s been so oblivious this whole time and too stubborn to realize what was right in front of him. Now he understands why Niall walked out of the pub last night.

It takes Harry a while to process it all, but when he finally does, he feels like he’s left even more confused than before. “Why’d you never tell me any of this?” he asks, looking back up to Louis.

“Would you have believed me if I did?” he counters.

“No,” Harry mumbles, like he’s afraid to admit that Louis is right, but he is. He wouldn’t have even entertained the thought if he brought it up, would’ve just called him mental and moved on.

“Maybe you should go talk to him,” Liam offers, but Harry shakes his head.

“I tried that already, but he wouldn’t talk to me.”

“Try again,” Liam urges.

“But what if-” Harry starts but Liam cuts him off with a firm shake of his head.

“Don’t make excuses, Haz, just go talk to him,” Liam says again, and Harry’s about to launch into a speech about how Niall could throw him out, refuse to see him ever again or could give him the silent treatment, but then Liam’s standing up and grabbing Harry’s arm until he too rises from his seat.

“Go,” Liam says, his voice calm and firm as he leads Harry to the door. He never thought Liam would be kicking him out of his own building, but he knows this is what he has to do.

-

Harry stands in front of Niall’s building, staring up at the menacing skyscraper above him, and he secretly wishes Liam was here to give him an extra push. His heart is nearly beating out of his chest, and it’s a strange feeling because the last time he came here he had been filled with rage. This time he’s nervous and he doesn’t think he’s ever been this anxious to see Niall.

He kind of wishes Niall’s building wasn’t across the street so he could have more time to think about what he’s going to say, but he can’t go back into his own building without Liam and Louis pushing him right back out, and he’s got nowhere else to go, so he enters.

He steps into the elevator and resists the urge to press every button to stall for time, but he knows the longer he draws this out the worse it could be.

The doors open on the top floor, but it’s much more deserted than it was the last time, and he thinks that Niall isn’t even here, but then he sees a silhouette move in Niall’s office. Harry takes a deep breath to steel himself and marches straight into Niall’s office before he has the chance to talk himself out of it.

Niall’s standing by the window, staring down at the street below, but he tears his eyes away when the floor squeaks under Harry’s foot. “I already told you, Lydia, it’s fine if you go home early-” he starts, but cuts himself off when his eyes land on Harry. “What are you doing here?” He reverts his attention back out the window, a silent cue for Harry to leave, but he came all the way over here and he's not leaving now.

“I came here because we need to talk,” Harry says, calm but firm.

“Look, if this is about what I said at the bar, just forget it. I didn’t mean it,“ Niall says dismissively, but Harry can see the way his body goes rigid, like he’s protecting himself from whatever he thinks Harry came here to say.

Harry takes a step forward, and takes it as a good sign when Niall doesn’t tell him to step back. “I think we both know that you did.”

“If you came here to rub it in, don’t. You made yourself crystal clear last night,” Niall says, his voice edging on angry, and Harry knows that he has to tread lightly if he wants Niall to really listen.

“I was just surprised,” he says, and Niall scoffs. “I  _ was _ , but now I’ve had time to think it about it and-”

“-and you came to rub it in?” Niall tries again, but Harry just sighs.

“Would you just shut up for two seconds and listen?” Harry says, forgoing his original idea and walking around Niall’s desk until he’s standing in front of Niall. He cups Niall’s chin, angling his face toward Harry's, and he waits until Niall’s eyes meet his before he leans forward and kisses him. He half expects Niall to pull away, but he doesn’t, the rigidness of his shoulders softening as he practically melts into Harry. Harry can feel his knees go weak again, but it’s still a long moment before he finally pulls away. “Do you get it now?”

Niall seems a bit dazed, but he nods anyway as the realization settles in. Harry was never willing to admit to himself how much he actually like their first kiss, but now he’s finding that he’d like to do it a lot more, looking at the way Niall’s lips already look red and swollen only makes him want to dive back in. “You don’t hate me?”

“I never did,” Harry admits with a shrug, like they haven't just spent their entire careers yelling and fighting. He hates that it took him this long to realize that the churning feeling in his stomach he got every time he was around Niall was actually butterflies, not anger. “I just quit lying to myself about how much I actually like you.”

“Took you long enough,” Niall says, smiling, before he drags Harry back in for another kiss. Harry thinks he could get used to this. It’s much better than arguing.

“So,” Harry says when they break apart again. “Dinner?”

“What?” Niall asks him confusedly.

“Dinner. With me. It’s called a date,” Harry says, trying to fight off a smile as Niall swats at his chest.

“Sure,” Niall says with a smile, and Harry doesn’t have to pretend to ignore the way his heart flutters. “But there’s something I want to do first.”

There’s a playful glint in his eyes that Harry doesn’t question, he just lets Niall lead him over to the couch that sits on the far side of his office. He pushes at Harry's chest until he’s lying down and Niall begins unbuckling Harry’s belt.

“Do you always jump into someone’s pants before the first date?” Harry teases.

“Shut up,” Niall says, but it’s not as wrathful as Harry's come to expect - it's fond.

Harry’s about to make another remark, but then Niall’s hand reaches down his pants and the only thing that comes out of his mouth is a moan. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Niall’s laugh echoes around the room, and it's such a beautiful sound, Harry wonders why he ever hated it in the first place.

He realizes now that he never did.


End file.
